


let me give you my life

by biblionerd07



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 5 Things, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, angel of death - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-23
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2486444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Steve chose to live when he could have died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let me give you my life

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion piece to [no grave can hold my body down](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2459963), from Steve's side of things, but both can be read separately.

Steve knew his ma was worried about leaving him, but she had to go to work. She'd already taken two days off, and they wouldn't be eating if she didn't get back to the hospital. He used all the strength his ten-year-old body possessed to hold in his coughs until she left, but even pinching his cheeks didn't bring any color into them and he couldn't do anything about the rattling sound his chest made every time he breathed.

“Ma, I'll be fine,” he insisted weakly. “Bucky's coming after school.”

Sarah bit her lip as she bent over him to kiss his cheeks. “I love you, Steve,” she murmured.

“I love you too, Ma. Don't worry about me.”

She gave him a look that said she'd always worry about him, and he tried to muster up a smile to set her mind at ease. His head was swimming a little because he couldn't quite catch a deep breath. She sighed one last time and left for work. Steve waited until her footsteps faded from the stairs before letting out the coughing fit he'd been suppressing.

He slumped back into the three pillows his ma had piled behind him—all the pillows they owned—chest rising and falling far too quickly as he tried to catch his breath. He'd told Bucky not to come today but he knew Bucky wasn't going to listen. Bucky hadn't played ball with the other neighborhood boys all week while Steve was sick, and Steve felt bad. Bucky was good at baseball and loved it; he shouldn't have to be cooped up inside just because Steve was sick. But Bucky wouldn't budge. Every time Steve told him to go outside, he lifted his chin stubbornly and said he didn't feel like playing outside. Bucky was the best friend Steve had ever had.

He still hadn't quite gotten a full breath, and the rattling in his chest was getting louder. He tried holding his breath to make it stop. If it was too loud Mrs. Donahue next door would hear and send someone for his ma.

The next thing Steve knew, he was sitting at the kitchen table. That was strange—he didn't remember getting up, and he had trouble believing he'd made it all the way across the room on his own, weak as he was. He was breathing fine and even his ever-aching joints felt okay. Then he noticed a pretty woman in a long white dress beside him.

“Did my ma send you?” He blurted out. “I'm fine.”

She looked sad. “Your mother did send me,” she confirmed softly. “But you're not fine.” She looked past him to the bed and he followed her gaze. He could see someone in the bed and he gasped because it was _himself_.

“What's going on?” He asked shakily. “Why are there two of me?”

“You've left your body, child,” she told him, and he felt his lower lip start to tremble a little like he was going to cry. He bit his lip stubbornly. He wasn't going to cry in front of a lady.

“Did I die?” His voice wasn't obeying the command not to cry.

“You did,” she said solemnly. “I'm sorry.”

A tear made its way out of his eye and he brushed it away angrily. “I don't want to die!”

“You get to decide,” she said. “But you should think about your choice.”

Before Steve could say anything, there was a knock on the door—two short, quick raps and then the door swung open. Bucky. Steve sucked in a quick breath and looked at the woman.

“No, please don't make Bucky see me if I'm dead!” He pleaded frantically. “He still has nightmares 'cause he saw his aunt when she was dead.”

“He won't notice you're dead unless you make the choice to stay that way.” She covered his hand with hers and her skin was soft. Steve didn't know anyone with hands that soft. “But I want you to know that if you stay, you'll still get sick often. You'll be in the same pain you're in now.”

Steve watched Bucky set his books and a stack of papers—Steve's schoolwork—on the table, not even glancing at Steve and the woman. He was being quiet, obviously thinking Steve was asleep.

“But my ma will be real sad if I die,” Steve said slowly.

“She will.”

“And Buck...” Steve trailed off as Bucky started tiptoeing toward the bed. “But my ma won't have to work as hard without my medicine to buy. And Bucky can play outside with the other kids. He won't have to get in so many fights 'cause no one fights Bucky unless I started it.”

The woman squeezed his hand. “Do you think your mother would rather you die than pay for your medicine?” She asked kindly. “Do you think your friend would be better off without you?”

“He probably would.” Steve looked down at the table, the tears making his eyes hot. “I'm always getting him in trouble.”

It was quiet for a minute, the only sound in the room Bucky humming quietly to himself as he straightened the blankets around Steve's body. “You sleeping good, Stevie?” He whispered, and Steve couldn't hold in a little sob.

“What happens if I stay dead?” He asked. Dying was scary business. His ma said he'd go to heaven but Steve had sat through enough sermons to know he probably wasn't good enough for that. He talked back a lot and he never turned the other cheek like Father O’Neil said he should.

“I can't tell you what will happen to you,” the woman said sadly.

“Can you tell me what will happen to my ma and Bucky?”

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Your mother would be heartbroken,” she finally said, and Steve felt his chest ache with the thought of his ma crying. “Your friend.” She shook her head. “He would become angry and spiteful. He has a good heart, but life will not be kind to him in years to come, even if you stay. Without you to remind him of his goodness, he will become bitter. He will become estranged from his family.”

Steve couldn't even imagine any of that. Bucky was good and kind and everything Steve was supposed to be. Bucky helped his ma with his younger sisters and could make anyone feel better just from smiling at them. Even right at that moment, Bucky was moving around Steve's kitchen quietly and emptying his pockets of things he'd brought with him—a few small potatoes, a little glass jug of milk. He had to pull a chair over to the counter to reach Steve's ma's pot, but he did it and then plunked it down on the stove to start making some soup for Steve.

“I'll stay,” Steve said confidently. He'd already gone ten years getting sick and being in pain; getting rid of that wasn't worth hurting his ma and Bucky. The woman nodded and suddenly Steve gasped awake, coughing so hard he couldn't remember what he'd just been dreaming. Quick as a flash, Bucky jumped off the chair and came to his side.

“Hey, Stevie, breathe,” Bucky ordered, gently whacking him on the back to dislodge some of the gunk in his lungs. Steve didn't know what he'd do without Bucky.

 

Steve was fifteen and had a chip on his shoulder bigger than his small body. He knew he should be kind and gentle, but he couldn't help it—when people thought he was weak, some kind of fire took hold and made him fight harder.

But sometimes that got him into trouble, like when the Smith twins ganged up on him and their older brothers showed up to help. It wouldn't have been a fair fight even with just one of them; all four of them together against Steve was certainly bad news.

“You cowards!” Steve spat the words along with some blood. “Four against one?”

The oldest, Frank, was twenty but didn't seem to mind picking on someone younger and smaller. He gave Steve a hard shove that sent him crashing into the brick wall behind him. He couldn't help the little groan that slipped out. It had been rainy all week, so his bones already ached, and that wasn't helping anything.

“You want to keep talking?” Frank asked menacingly. A little voice in Steve's head that sounded an awful lot like Bucky said _just shut up, will ya?_

“I ain't afraid 'a you!” Steve shot back, ignoring the little voice.

“You should be,” the youngest, Bill, told him with a twisted smile. Steve didn't notice which of them knocked his feet out from under him, but suddenly he was on the ground and all four of them were kicking him. Each time he tried to get up, someone sent him sprawling down again. This was bad. Liddy Wilson, the butcher's daughter, walked by and paused by the mouth of the alley.

“You leave him alone!” She shouted angrily, but she was just a twelve-year-old girl and they were four mostly-grown men.

“Go on outta here, Liddy,” Steve choked out.

“I'm getting Bucky!” She cried as she sped away. Liddy was best friends with Becca and knew all too well about Steve's penchant for getting into these kind of scrapes. But Steve didn't think Bucky would be much help this time; Bucky had hit a growth spurt a few months earlier, but he still wasn't much match for Frank and Lester, the two older boys. If it were just Bill and Sammy, maybe Bucky could've scared them off.

Suddenly, Steve was perched on the wall above the whole scene, watching his body get pummeled. He recognized the woman beside him, but it took a minute to remember his brush with death, and then his eyes went wide.

“They killed me?” He asked indignantly. Just then, the boys realized his body had gone limp and scrambled, not wanting to be caught kicking his unconscious (or lifeless, apparently) body.

“You're not all the way dead this time,” she told him, frowning. “You shouldn't fight so much.”

“Well, they were trying to steal apples from Mrs. Klein,” Steve said. “Do I get another choice?”

“You do,” the woman sighed. “I think I already know your answer.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “A little fight's not enough to convince me to go.” He thought of how Liddy said she'd get Bucky; he needed to get back to his body and get up before Bucky got there. And then Bucky would help him home, scolding him all the way, and clean Steve up, and they'd sit so close together and Bucky would be _touching_ Steve with those big, calloused hands...

She crossed her arms and stared at him a minute, and he shifted uncomfortably. Steve didn't really know who she was, but he hoped she couldn't read minds. If she could let him choose between life or death, it didn't seem to strange if she could hear his thoughts. And those were _not_ thoughts Steve should be sharing with anyone, let alone a dame.

“He's running for you right now,” she said, and Steve's heart gave a painful little leap. Bucky was always running for him. Steve always felt bad, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from doing these dumb things.

“Can I at least be sitting up when he gets here?” Steve almost begged. She sighed again and then Steve was sitting up, groaning and wiping at the blood on his mouth. Bucky came thundering up, rocks skittering under his feet, and he swore when he saw Steve.

“'m gonna kill those bastards,” he said darkly.

“Don't go to any trouble on my account.” Steve tried to smile but it pulled painfully at his swollen lip. Bucky made a little noise in the back of his throat and hurried closer to throw his arm around Steve's shoulder.

“Wouldn't be no trouble at all to get some payback,” he promised. “C'mon, Stevie, up you get.”

 

The stress of his mother's funeral led to Steve catching a bad cold, and he was so distraught about losing his ma he didn't rest up enough and soon the cold turned into pneumonia—the story of Steve's life. He'd finally given in to Bucky's arguments that they get a place together, but they hadn't moved yet, so he was swaddled under about ten blankets on Bucky's bed in his parents' house.

Bucky's ma was practically a second mother to Steve, so she fussed over him and brought him soup and ordered the girls not to bother him while he slept and Bucky was at work. No matter how many times she told him it was no trouble at all, Steve felt bad. The Barneses already had four kids to feed, and even though they were better off than Steve's ma had ever been, they didn't have a huge excess to spare on a sickly reed who could get any of them sick, too.

He was lying there against Bucky's pillow, feeling sorry for himself and wishing Bucky was there to fling off two of the blankets and use his own body for heat instead, when the watery feeling of his breathing went away and he was sitting cross-legged on the floor. It didn't take long to remember the last two times this had happened, and Steve groaned a little.

“I can't die in Bucky's bed,” he blurted. The woman raised an eyebrow at him.

“You've done plenty else in his bed,” she countered, and he blushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “But it is still your choice.”

Steve opened his mouth to tell her to send him back when he thought of something and paused. “Did you see my ma?”

She looked away from him and he wanted to grab her arm. That would be inappropriate, so he settled for making his voice more commanding. “My ma,” he repeated. “She just died a few weeks ago. Did you give her a choice, too?”

“She didn't get a choice,” the woman said quietly. “If she had, she would not have chosen to leave you.”

Steve felt tears in his eyes. He knew that, in his heart, but hearing it from someone with the authority to really know that made it real. “Why didn't she get a choice?” He choked out. “Why do I get so many chances and she didn't even get one?”

“Your mother—” The woman stopped and pressed her lips together. “I can't tell you that. But she did not want to leave you.”

“I didn't want her to leave me,” Steve murmured, swiping at his eyes. The woman took his hand and squeezed it.

“If you choose to go with me, you will be reunited with her.”

Steve's heart leaped. The opportunity to see his ma again was certainly alluring. But he looked at his body, looked at the way his fingers curled into Bucky's pillow, looked at Bucky's nightshirt discarded haphazardly at the end of the bed, and thought of how Winifred hadn't been in to check on him for a while and would undoubtedly be doing so soon. He thought of Bucky's little sisters and how scared they'd be if they had to see Steve's dead body.

“Someday,” he said softly. “I'll see her again someday. But I can't go yet.”

The woman nodded, a little sadly, and gave his fingers another squeeze. Steve coughed himself awake—a familiar feeling—and Becca knocked softly before opening the door to bring him a glass of water. She brushed the hair off his forehead like Bucky would've if he'd been there and Steve dredged up a smile in thanks. His ma was dead, and that would never stop hurting, but he had to remember he still had family.

 

Steve's hands were shaking as Dr. Erskine shut the door to the pod. This was going to make Steve better. He needed to do this. But he was a little scared. He thought of what Dr. Erskine told him about the last guy they'd done this to and he shivered a little. But Bucky was out there, across the ocean, fighting without him. There were bullies to stop, and this would give him a body that would let him do that.

The pain built as Stark cranked the machine up, and Steve couldn't hold back his scream. It felt like his entire body was on fire, was cracking open, was being stretched in all directions at once. And then he was sitting over to the side, and the woman in the white dress was there. She looked disappointed.

“You didn't even stop to think,” she scolded, the first time she'd spoken first. Steve thought she and Bucky would probably get on pretty well. They both worried an awful lot.

“I didn't realize it would hurt so much,” he admitted, voice a little weak. She pursed her lips.

“You can still choose,” she reminded him. He nodded. It was always a choice when she was there.

“Guess I'd still be dying for the war effort,” he tried to joke. She gave him a sharp look that sort of reminded him of his mother. “God, but that hurts.”

“If you stay, you will face things you never imagined,” she told him softly. “Things that will hurt you.”

“But I'll be better, won't I? So I can handle a little pain.”

“You'll be bigger,” she said, in a tone that indicated she didn't think much of the idea. “I'm not speaking of physical pain.”

“Oh.” Steve stopped to think about that. “Well. It's a war. I expect I'll see some bad things.”

She looked the saddest he'd ever seen, with a tinge of anger, too. “You have no idea the pain you face.”

That scared him a little. “Really that bad?”

She looked down at her hands. “Your friend...” She stopped. Steve's heart sped up.

“Bucky?” He asked. “Is something going to happen to him?”

She nodded, just once. “Terrible things will happen to him.”

“I have to go back,” Steve said frantically. “They'll give me a better body, so I gotta go stop those bad things from happening.”

She smiled at him, but there were tears in her eyes. “You can't stop them,” she whispered. “Terrible things await him whether you go back or not.”

“Why?” Steve bit out angrily. “Why are you telling me this but not letting me save him?”

“It is not my decision,” she said quietly.

Steve took a deep breath. “Will he get the same choice I've gotten all these times?” He asked around the lump in his throat. “Please let him decide.”

She closed her eyes, and Steve remembered she did that when she was thinking. “He will get to choose,” she promised. “Though it may be kinder to let him die.”

Steve felt a chill go down his spine. “It's going to be that bad for him?” Tears were rising in his eyes and he blinked them away distractedly. She just shook her head, declining to answer. Steve swallowed hard.

“I have to go back,” he said. “Even if I can't stop the bad things from happening to Bucky, I can be there with him. I need to be with him.”

She patted his hand and then he heard Dr. Erskine telling Stark to shut down the machine. The pain was more than he'd ever experienced, but he shouted at them to let him finish. He didn't understand the dread in his stomach, but he knew he had to finish this.

 

Steve didn't know why he was getting a choice this time. Surely he'd made his choice by sending the plane down into the water? But there was the woman, sitting beside him and holding his hand.

“I still get to choose?” He asked. She looked at him a long time, and then sighed.

“You get to choose because your mother prayed it so,” she said slowly. “When you were very young, your mother sat beside your bed and offered herself in return for your choice. And we honor that offer.”

Steve shivered and it had nothing to do with the ice around him. “Oh, Ma,” he murmured.

“Would you like to choose?” The woman asked softly.

“How can I get out of here?” He asked, looking around him at his body floating in the icy water.

“It will be a long time,” she revealed, clasping his hand in both of hers. “Your body will be frozen, but if you choose to stay, you will be found.” She still looked sad, though.

“I don't know if I want to this time,” he admitted, his throat tight. “Years—Peggy will find someone else. And I thought—I thought I'd wake up with Bucky. After the plane went down.”

She looked down at their joined hands. “Your friend is not dead,” she whispered. Steve's head snapped up to stare at her.

“I saw him fall,” he insisted numbly. “He—the train.”

She took a deep breath. “He had a choice.”

“But where is he?” Steve's voice came out higher than he'd have liked. “If he's alive, what's going to happen? I can't wait years to go find him!”

“He has already been found,” she said, and there were tears in her eyes. “I told you, last time we were here, that terrible things would happen to him.”

“But terrible things already _did_ happen,” Steve reminded her angrily. “Zola had him.”

“There is worse still to come.” Her voice was thick. At least she was sad about it, Steve thought, but what good did being sad do for Bucky?

“Let me go back now!” He shouted. “Don't make me wait years. I have to get to Bucky!”

She shook her head, taking a deep, shaky breath. “It doesn't work that way. I can't change anything. Your decision is to die or to live with the events already in place.”

Steve pounded a fist against the console in front of him furiously. “Will Bucky still be alive when I get found?” He demanded.

“He has chosen to live. If he dies again, he will get to choose again. If he chooses to live every time he is given the choice, he will be alive when you're found.”

Steve didn't know what to do. He hit the console again, even though it wasn't doing anything. He wanted to rip the plane apart; he wanted to swim up to the surface and find Bucky.

“If he's still alive when I'm found, will I get to see him again?” He asked, quieter this time.

She looked at him for a minute, eyes sad, and then closed her eyes. Steve thought maybe she was peering into the future when she did that. “Yes,” she said, but her voice was small. “After many years. After you both go through pain.”

“Can I go through some more pain to give him less?” Steve asked desperately, even though she'd already said she couldn't change it. She shook her head.

“I'm sorry,” she said gently, and Steve could tell she meant it. “If I could change things...” She swallowed. “I can only promise that you will be together again if you both live.”  
  
Steve thought about it. What if he chose to live and Bucky didn't? He couldn't begrudge Bucky that choice; the woman wouldn't tell him what Bucky was going to go through, but he could tell it was more than he could imagine—she'd said it would be worse than Zola and he'd been there while Bucky thrashed through nightmares after that. Maybe it would be better if Bucky chose to die.

But what if Bucky chose to live and Steve chose to die? Bucky always did everything he could for Steve. Steve knew, with a little pang, that if she told Bucky living through whatever awful things happened would take him back to Steve, Bucky would do it. And if Steve chose to go, Bucky would cling to life only for more terrible things to happen to him. It made Steve's stomach turn. Bucky had already gone through enough for Steve; Steve wouldn't do that to him.

“I'll stay,” he said heavily. “Bucky's going to need me.”

The woman raised his hand and kissed the back of it. “You do not make an easy decision, and you will face pain when you awake," she told him. “But if you're sure of your decision, I will send you back.”

Steve closed his eyes for a second. He heard Peggy's tearful voice in his mind and wondered what would happen to her. And then the image of Bucky on Zola's table flashed into his head, Bucky's eyes glazed, his dazed smile when he saw Steve, the cuts and bruises and scars all over his body once Steve got to look him over. The woman said worse things were going to happen, and if Steve couldn't stop those things from happening, he at least wanted to be alive to tear down every person who raised a finger at Bucky.

“I'm sure,” he finally said. “I need to do this for Bucky.”

“He chose to stay for you, as well,” the woman told him, a sad smile on her face. “It will not be easy. But you will find each other.”

Steve took a deep breath, bracing himself to go back under the ice. He didn't know what was going to happen to his body. He didn't know when he would wake up or what was going to happen to him when he did. He didn't know how long it would be before he saw Bucky again. _You will find each other._ “That's all I need,” Steve said. He could wait for Bucky if he had to.


End file.
